


A Lawyer's Price For Murder

by MonsieurMadeleine



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Dildos, Female Rafael Barba, M/M, Mental Asylum, Murder, Prison Sex, Suicide Attempts, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 19:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16102520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsieurMadeleine/pseuds/MonsieurMadeleine
Summary: "Do you feel guilty for what you've done?"Yes, he felt guilty for what he did. He feels awfully guilty.Rikers Island has always been a place of despair, (mental) illness and in some cases death, that being one of the reasons Rafael had visited the prison complex no more than four times in his whole carreer. He was glad that his work didn't demand any more visits. But now he was to spend the rest of his life in there, and that because New York doesn't do death penalties. Yes he had been very glad when they stopped the use of the electric chair, but now he doesn't know what he would give just to die a quick and fairly painless death on "Old Sparky", as they call it in prison.The prison guards are all assholes, Rafael soon notices. Well... All but one. Carlson is quite nice. The other inmates bully him less than he had expected and feared them to, but the guards...





	A Lawyer's Price For Murder

A headache was the first thing of which he was aware. Then came his surroundings: a hospital room. Everything was white, just like he had always imagined it to be. Just as creepy as he had always imagined it to be. But the lack of memories was what truly scared him. What had happened to him? He remembered having sex with James Carlson, the officer, and he also remembered Collins checking whether or not all inmates had left the “kitchen” and how he caught the lovers red-handed. The most recent event he remembered was attacking Sanders, the owner of the mental ward. Before he could even smash the man to the floor, someone plunged a syringe into his neck.

And now he was hospitalized for God-knows-what.

As he tried to scan his body – only the chest and arms for he was still heavily immobilized – he discovered no new bruises, and yet he felt – knew that something was wrong. But what?

‘Would she like the changes?’ Busard’s voice sounded from behind the double door before said officer entered with his colleague Collins at his side. Of course Collins was there: anything to please Busard.

‘Ah, she’s awake!’ Collins exclaimed with a wide smile.

‘She?’ Rafael echoed. Who were they addressing? Not him right? But he was alone.

‘Oh, she doesn’t know yet!’ the officer said excitedly. ‘We get to break the news to her! To our dear lady!’

‘I’m not a lady!’ the former lawyer angrily retorted, his pride obviously insulted. ‘Stop calling me that!’ What was so amusing about calling him a lady? He wasn’t a lay and he would never be one. Not if he had anything to say about it. But he had nothing to say about it. Nothing at all.

‘I present to you, this beautiful lady!’ Busard theatrically announced, pulling away the covers, revealing a carefully stitched vagina. Tears formed in his eyes, but he refused to let those fall. No way in hell that he would allow them that satisfaction.

Portia? What an awful name! And suddenly he remembered how he and his friends would taunt a young girl by calling her Portia, which meant “pig”. And now he was the pig, a stupid animal without the possibility to protect itself.

The officers laughed before leaving, Busard nearly dancing in joy. Of course he did: who wouldn’t be proud of himself for taking away someone’s pride?

For what felt like hours he tried to hold back the tears, but it didn’t help. Eventually he simply let go, sobbing softly to himself, his body too weak to cry out, move or do anything else.

How could he have let that happen? How did it get so far?

It would be a long time before he calmed down, and when he did, he had to take a long moment to catch his breath.

But eventually he just had to know what it was like with his gone pride and it’s replacement. He carefully traced the lines of the stitches that held his vagina together. It didn’t hurt an awful lot to do it, but it couldn’t be described as any form of pleasant either. Carefully he tried to push one finger into himself, surpressing a pained moan as he did so. He pulled his finger out and laid back on the bed. It had happened and there was no way to reverse it.

 

 


End file.
